Pat and the Wound Dresser
by LoveTheCumberBatch
Summary: Ten and Rose visit the Interplanetary Trade Center. By chance he ends up buying a cow. The Doctor is reunited with the bravest girl he has ever met: Esther Jones. Will their happy reunion be spoiled by the corrupt, however?
1. Chapter 1

_Greetings Whovians! This is a Ten/Rose/OC sort of story! Filled with odd planets, a quirky Time Lord, and cows. Please enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Only the OCs **

"You're sure this tie is alright?"

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You have brown eyes, brown hair. How can you go wrong with a brown tie?"

"It's just," he whined, "I feel like I'm donning too much of the brown. Positive you don't like the red one?" He held his arms out, at least fifty ties dangling from his cufflinks to his shoulders. When she shrugged, he let out an irritated pout. "Come on then! Just because I'm indecisive doesn't give you the right to be as well."

"Doctor," she laughed, stepping closer to skirt off the dozens of ties from his arms. "You look fine."

The Doctor smiled, gentle lines forming across his buoyant face. His appearance was misleading; being over nine-hundred he looked rather handsome and not the least bit wrinkly. His short spiky hair dangled just above his bright eyes, hardly giving off any clue to his true age. Suppose it was one of the tricks he had being a Time Lord.

"Alright," the Doctor submitted, shucking the rest of the ties off, "Brown it is. It's amazing how time-consuming these things are."

"Do you need help tying that?"

"Honestly, you don't think I can tie this myself? Rose Tyler, doubting me." He tutted at her then hung the loose tie around his neck, beginning to knot it together. "Now I'm not even going to tell you where we're going."

Rose didn't seem too surprised by this as she climbed the few stairs up to the console. "Are we going into the past or the future?"

"Future," he played along, using one hand to hold his tie and the other to spin dials and press buttons.

"Hmm," she paused leaning against the control panel. "Before year five billion?"

The Doctor looked up from his dial-turning and smirked playfully at her. "I forget sometimes how long you've been travelling with me. Yes, before five billion." The half-done knot slipped beneath his fingers from lack of attention, turning back into a strand of silk fabric around his neck again.

"Is it alien? Not some parallel universe?"

"Very. Every sort of species you could think of. Hold on!" The room suddenly jerked to the right violently, a great humming filling their ears. Both Rose and the Doctor took hold of the railings, disregarding the ships spinning and caterwauling. They spun about for a short stretch until the ship landed against something hard and solid like a mountain, making its passengers grips slip and let them fall sharply on their rumps.

Rose began straddling back onto her feet as soon as the ship stopped moving. "Isn't there something here that can keep the ship from rocking us all over?" she grimaced.

"The stabilizers you mean. Yeah, I could use them, but what fun would time travel be without hitting a few rough patches?" The Doctor tried coaxing, barely wavered by the eccentric ride, trying again to knot his tie while pressing buttons.

"Was that it? Are we here?"

"Here as in- curse it all, this tie is jinxed!" he burst out, undoing the lopsided knot. Rose laughed at his frustration and took the tie from his hands, smoothly wrapping one side of the tie around the other, loosely paying attention to how close he was.

Through all her travels with the mystery Doctor she couldn't deny the subtle siege of attraction pulling at her heart strings. The mix of bravery and wit and compassion was overwhelming for the nineteen year old London native. How he would value her opinion with smiles and hugs and name every star in the sky without flaw left her twitterpating mind wondering whether he chose his actions on purpose or out of childish play.

"There," she announced. "Now you look fine." Rose tightened the knot slightly, grazing his Adam's apple with the back of her finger. Almost immediately, color lightened her face.

"What would I be without you Rose Tyler?" The Doctor grinned cheerily, returning to his dials without hastening. For a moment Rose just stood there, scowling mildly at his back. Her face immediately changed when he spun back around. "Don't wait for me; go see what's out there! You have a whole world waiting for you."

Rose didn't argue, stepping down from the console and wrapped her hands around the handles of the door. How many times had she done this, held her breath in anticipation for the unknown world behind two wooden police box doors; felt her heart drum madly against her chest for fear of the Doctor's many devices and clever ideas to finally slip? As far as she knew her travels with the Doctor were timeless.

Pushing the doors open, Rose nearly hammered several people in the face. The street they had landed in was full of people: blue, green, beige, every color. She apologized to the ones she nearly hit, but they only scowled back, their arms overflowing with objects.

"Doctor?" Rose called behind her, "Where did you say we are?"

" Planet Chal, home of The Interplanetary Trade Center and," he paused, striding towards the doors, "Sixty-three million lightyears from Earth." Looking outside, he added, "Looks like we landed right in the heart of the place. Hope we didn't hit anything important."

"Hey you! In the box!" A squawky voice shrilled over the booming of the crowds. "What do you think you're doing? Do you even know where you landed?" A man with overly large horns protruding from his head began pushing through the people, making his way towards the box.

Rose leaned over to the Doctor. "Speak of the devil…"

"Oh, that was just mean," he shook his head. "Hello! Lovely day isn't it?" he called to the horned man.

"You have just landed your oversized trash can ontop of my produce stand! What's so lovely about that?" The man slammed his elbow through a straggly family of people that resembled the height, width and color of green beans.

The Doctor pushed Rose out of the doorway and into the street as the horned man came closer, stepping out himself and closing the doors behind him. No reason for the rest of the street to see inside the police box.

"Tell you what," he began when the man was in close range, "I'll pay for all the damages. Sorry, my fault." The Doctor reached deep into his trench coat pocket and brought out a thick wad of currency. The horned man's anger fled at the sight of the money.

"How much is that?"

"Much more than what your stand and produce cost. But I'm asking a favor along with this. What my 'oversized trash can' for me would you?" The Doctor pointed behind him at his ship the Tardis. It was a blue police box, not overly strange but in the market place the blue box stood out profoundly.

The man nodded, not hesitating at the offer. "I'd watch paint dry for that, sir."

Pleased, the Doctor gave the money to the horned man and promised he'd be back before dark. He turned to Rose. "Easily settled. Where do you want to go first?"

She was stunned for a moment, looking out at the crowds. "I don't even know what's here!"

"There's food, kitchenware, musical instruments, jewelry, practically anything you can think of." The Doctor linked his arm in hers, pulling them both into the stream of people. "Just name it."

Rose pounded her head, thinking for something zany and unusual. What was there that she could never have in London? On Earth let alone? Her eyes darted over to a group of darkly clothed people sitting on a bench, eating some sort of ice cream that changed colors to blend in with its surroundings.

"Ice cream," she told him. As if a light bulb had gone off behind his eyes, the Doctor beamed down at her.

"Ice cream it is! It's a bit of a walk, but well worth it. There's this little shop just past the livestock barns that makes these little things that swirl at the top and taste like a starburst. Just fantastic!"

Walking instep with each other, the Doctor continued talking, leading them through the contrastive clans of shoppers and sellers. From their tents and tables they would call out their low prices and guarantees, waving the latest gadget or object over their heads.

"How big is this interplanetary market?" Rose asked as they passed through a row of shops selling boiled animal heads that smelled surprisingly appetizing.

"Well, it takes up half of the planet. I'd say, roughly, it's the size of your solar systems Pluto. At first they had a horrible time organizing it all, but now it's been divided into three divisions. Lucky for us we landed in the food division.

"It's so big, in fact," the Doctor continued, turning a sharp corner down a steamy alleyway where there were hardly any people, "That it has developed its own currency." He reached into his pocket again, pulling out another wad of bills. "They're called Platos."

"What, like the philosopher?" Rose questioned, curiously taking a bill to inspect.

"That's the thing. It's _not _like the philosopher. These people don't even know who Plato was." The alleyway ended, bridging back into the main streets of the market. "It only took thirty centuries to forget he existed. Brilliant man, though. Met him once."

"Just shows that a person can't be remembered forever, I guess," Rose murmured, returning the bill to the Doctor's coat.

Another ten minutes passed, the atmosphere of the congested marketplace turning more into a rural landscape. Farms began popping up with rows of strangely shaped produce and the occasional cow or sheep. Large pens packed with varying species of animals replaced the shops, filling the street with the scent of dung and sweat. Around them, people with fine business clothes and worn work outfits stood around either looking at the animals or talking to each other.

"Fascinating the other cultures of the planets. To some people a cow such as that is a rarity." He pointed over to one of the pens. It was filled with earth cattle, their black bodies pressing tightly against the fence, their eyes wide. Outside the pen two men stood, one shouting orders to someone on the inside of the pen and the other slightly dozing in his business clothes. A beastly wail broke through the herd of cattle.

Rose and the Doctor froze, their eyes locked on the pen. "What was that?" she asked aloud.

"What's she doin' now?" The man outside the fence called out.

"She won't budge."

"Shock her again!"

"This is ridiculous," the other man outside the fence sniveled. "You said she was mellow, but now she won't move?"

"You're gettin' her for meat. What does it matter if she cooperates?" The man spit tar from his mouth. Another holler came from inside the pen.

"Doctor, let's go-"

"Hold on Rose," he said, "I want to see this." People in the street began watching the exchange as the wails became louder.

The trouble cow emerged out of the pen with a man behind her. Immediately the bovine's expression unnerved the Doctor; her darting glances and nervous shaking suggested more than simple cow thoughts crossing this cow's mind. Animals aren't so observant, he assured himself.

The cow stopped again, her legs shaking and her mouth frothing at the corners. The man with the prodding stick didn't waste a moment to jab her again, making her holler.

"There's your cow, sir," the tar-spitter said.

"I don't want it." The business man turned his gaze to the man. "Had I known before what she looked like and how she was treated I wouldn't have gone to the trouble."

The man pushed himself off the fence and glared fiercely at the business man. "Hold up. You're sayin' now after all the trouble I put my man through getting the beast that you won't buy it?"

"Practices such as yours shouldn't be supported." The business man's face became a hue of red, his voice dangerous and threatening.

"You said you were buyin' this beast," the tar-spitter barked back, "And I'm goin' to see to it this transaction's finished."

Rose felt the Doctor's arm slip from hers, his strides easily heading towards the heat of the problem. She felt the urge to follow after him, but the way the tar spitting man scowled at anything that moved she stayed back and watched the Doctor step forward brightly into the dispute.

This was one of the more wonderful traits of the Time Lord. Whenever a problem presented itself, whether life-threatening or a simple quarrel such as this, the Doctor was never shy to take on the challenge. He hardly took a step in the wings of the galaxies; he owned the center stage as far as he was concerned.

Leaning to the side, she tried to make out what the Doctor was saying to the men, but their voices had become too low and distant to make out. He pointed several times to the cow, nodding his head. Slowly, the expressions of the business man and the herdsmen softened towards the Doctor until the tar spitter nodded firmly and held his hand out to the Doctor. Not wasting a moment, he took hold and shook his hand.

Around the back of the cattle pen a striking businessman with green, warty skin stepped out. He was followed by a lean younger man, probably his assistant Rose guessed. He looked just as outlandish as the green man, wearing a tight-fitting suit jacket that obviously was digging into his blue neck.

The stranger and his assistant approached the mismatched group, shaking hands and laughing. Rose squinted in the sunlight; this stranger apparently knew the herdsmen, joking with them and offering them some sort of tobacco from a pouch. They stood like this for another ten minutes, their chatter prolonging while Rose grew more impatient by the second.

Finally fed up, Rose started tromping over to the group, about to pull the Doctor out of the friendly little circle, when he tilted his head so as to catch her eye. He looked to her as if saying, 'Alright, I'm coming. Don't get your socks in a knot.' Quickly he excused himself from the group, shaking hands with the men. The man keeping watch on the cow handed over the bridle to the Doctor and tipped his hat.

Rose, rooted to the ground, stood dumbfounded as the Doctor walked towards her with the cow in tow.

"Right, ice cream?" he smiled.

"You bought a cow?" Rose blurted, glancing between the Doctor and his new companion.

He looked confused. "Well, of course. I wasn't going to leave them quarrelling amongst themselves nor leave such a graceful animal to be harmed like that." The cow lifted her tail, a solid thwap of a cow pat falling on the street. The Doctor laughed. "Wonderful thing. What should I name her? She was only given a number, and I think she deserves better."

"It's a cow," Rose retorted, her nose curling at the fresh dung, "Doesn't matter to much, does it?" For a passing moment Rose swore she saw a flicker of hurt in the cow's eyes, her brows bending so to suggest pain from the insult.

"Is that necessary?" The Doctor rested a comforting hand on her wiry back, patting it gingerly. "Don't listen to her, "he spoke to the cow, "I don't think she understands you quite yet."

"Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that there seems to be more in these cattle," he pointed behind him, "than meets the eye. You're a keeper, you are," the Doctor promised his bovine friend, "Worth much more than a meal. No, you have a mind in there that has a story to tell." He was contemplating mostly to himself then, stroking the gnarly fur.

Rose paused, not wanting to break his concentration. "And what's that?" she asked coolly.

"No idea! Maybe ice cream will help."

_Thanks for reading! Keep a weathered eye for more chapters ahead!_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:_Thanks so much musicalcomet for the review! Onto the chapter! Allons-y!_

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything of Doctor Who related-stuff. Bam!**  
_

After finding the ice cream shoppe and receiving many peculiar looks from many a passerby, Rose, the Doctor, and the unnamed cow managed to buy themselves ice cream cones that towered dangerously with every sort of flavor unimaginable. Not wanting to continue being the center of attention in the street, the Doctor led them towards the back alleys of the trade center where the business owners' cargo ships were harbored.

Compared to the warm, social streets of the market the harbor was grey and hushed besides the whirring and humming from the Herculean ships. Fumes created a thick, pasty flavor in the air like breathing in molasses gone sour. Even the rays of sunlight from the first sun's setting was choked and in some spots failed to pass through the smog.

"Is there anything special about the name Pat?" the Doctor asked, holding his ice cream cone in one hand and the bridle in the other.

Rose shook her head and shrugged. "Not that I know of. It's not that popular of a name because of how vague it is; could be for a boy or a girl. It isn't a pretty name either." She took a bite out of her ice cream, relishing a scoop of something purple that tasted slightly like bananas. "What's this color supposed to be?"

"Ah, Dolorean fruitcake. Well, fruitcake as in candied tree bark. But there's nothing special about Pat, you're sure? Hm." Rose asked him why the name interested him. "One of the businessmen I was talking to kept asking his assistant how Pat was; I just wondered if it was some sort of slang term I never caught up on."

"Nope, never heard it. Was that businessman the guy with the green skin?"

"His name is . From how everyone respected him," the Doctor said, "I'm sure he's one of the wealthiest men in this division. Probably owns a dozen of these ships." He waved his hand randomly at the cargo ships looking over them, exhaling fumes high above.

"Probably has millions of those Platos, but doesn't even know where they originated from," Rose snickered, looking up to the Doctor. They laughed together, staring upwards at the ships and the stars.

"Speaking of names, this lovely bovine still needs one." He scratched behind her ears, growing more attached to her by the second.

Rose's lips pinched slightly at the sight of him fondling the animal, almost jealous. "You know you can't keep her."

"Says you. I'm sure I could fit her inside the Tardis."

"But I'm not going anywhere with a cow for a companion," she argued back, losing interest in her ice cream.

The Doctor sighed, seeing that persuading her would be an uphill battle. "Alright, but first she needs a proper name…something that starts with an 'L.'"

"Laura," Rose offered.

He shook his head, looking the black cow over meticulously. "Maybe Liesel?"

"Too stuffy." Walking idly, they tried several names, but none suiting the gentle cow. The path became wider ahead of them, giving more berth for the cargo stowed away in the ships.

"It should be something easy like her person, but she holds herself so ladylike," the Doctor said, concentrating.

"What about Lady?"

The kind-hearted Time Lord grinned madly. "Perfect. Lady, the cow. What a grand cow as well." Lady, for the first time, looked up at the Doctor and puffed out a moo.

"Sounds like someone's a bit attached," Rose said, picking at her ice cream. "Might as well be your new companion."

"Oh, Rose you're being ridiculous. Actually…wait, are you jealous of Lady?"

She scowled at him. "We should head back to the Tardis, don't you think? It's nearly dark."

"Nah, this planet is biorbital; Chal orbits two suns. Any moment the second sun should rise. But there's no harm heading back to the Tardis, all of us-"

"Not so fast! We still need to find a place to drop off your best friend," Rose protested. Just as the Doctor had predicted, the second sun began to crest the cargo ships.

He groaned, swinging the bridle in his hand like a pouting child who disagreed with his parents. "She's my pet. Don't see how you can overrule me."

"Because I'm not going to travel alongside a cow. I don't even think a cow would enjoy time travel, what with all their stomachs." The Doctor couldn't disagree; having two hearts was enough so trying to imagine having more than one stomach swirling about in the Tardis made him slightly queasy.

"You said these were all cargo ships, right?" Rose asked. When the Doctor nodded back, she said, "I'm sure one of these ships carries livestock. We could give her to one of them."

"Why do you have to be so observant?" he complained. "You see the markings on that ship? Each ship has a symbol on it to show what type of cargo they carry. If we can find any livestock ships then I suppose. The symbol should look like a set of bull horns."

Rose weaved past each ship, reading the symbol and the name painted on the ship then deciding whether or not it was worthy of getting rid of Lady or not. It took them another kilometer to find several livestock ships, but the Doctor said that he had to make sure Lady would go to a comfortable ship. He hardly went through the trouble of naming her so she could be turned into beef.

"How about this one," Rose called to him, shielding her eyes from the sunlight that shown overhead. "This ship's called the Fernweh."

After reading the names of dozens of ships, the Doctor perked up to this name. "Say the name again?" he said, tugging Lady along behind him.

"Fernweh. Is it an alien name?" The Doctor stood next to Rose, his gaze pressing against the cursive text.

"Actually it's the most human word I've heard from this planet yet. What a beautiful name! This could be your ticket, Lady." Disgruntled and tired by the walk, Lady only harrumphed back.

"I've never heard of it," Rose admitted.

"It isn't a very common word, but seeing we're in the forty–third century this word should be long forgotten." From his coat pocket he pulled out a pair of black rectangular glasses and perched them on his nose, squinting at the writing. "It means a longing for travel and ache for distant places."

"Hello. What do we think we're doing here?" a firm voice called out. The Doctor snapped his head, meeting eyes with the stranger. She was a young woman with dark skin, her wiry black hair pulled back tightly from her face. Her face was rounded, her nose scooping outwards like a ski slope. Relentlessly her hardened eyes kept steady gaze with the Time Lord.

He recognized her right away. Years had worn her face and set her expression with tan lines, but everything else about her reeked of Esther Jones. The little girl from the village, brave enough to help the Doctor when all seemed lost. The Doctor wanted to call her out by name and ask her how such a tender-hearted child could have become a determined young woman. He held his tongue, though, knowing she wouldn't remember him.

"Erm, we-we were just…" Rose began, but couldn't find any other words to use.

"Hello. We were just admiring the name of your vessel. Quite an ancient name, isn't it?" Making his way a few steps closer to where she stood, he continued taking her in. How she changed! Compared to the Esther Jones he knew before she had become tough as diamonds now.

"I'm glad you like it, but if you're looking to admire things the market is that way, sir," she informed, unfolding her crossed arms to point east. "If you don't mind-"

"No, no, I gave the wrong impression, I'm sorry. We're looking to sell this cow, and seeing you have a livestock ship I thought you might be interested," he tried to coax her, motioning for Lady to step forward as evidence.

Instead of softening, her expression bent in confusion. Stepping out of the doorway, she went up to examine Lady. "What's wrong with her?" she asked, running her hand down Lady's back.

"Nothing that I know of. She's been mistreated a bit, but that's all I know," he conceded, watching her work.

Raising herself again, she looked squarely into the his eyes. "Don't think I caught your name."

"Um, John. John Smith," he lied, offering his hand.

"Esther Jones," she replied, crunching his fingers. He winced slightly and let go, his fingers throbbing.

"This is my friend Rose Tyler," he pointed out.

Rose waved her hand a bit, stepping into the little circle. "Esther was it?"

Esther looked over Rose for a moment, noting her blonde hair and jean jacket grudgingly. "Yeah." Her interest lost on Rose, she returned her attention to the Doctor. "You don't seem like the kind of man who would be interested in livestock, Mr. Smith, am I wrong? Why are you walking around with a cow?"

The Doctor mouth turned into a half-hearted smile. "I'm an inspector," he stated, bringing from his breast pocket a tablet of psychic paper and flashing it at Esther. "Her owners were mistreating her. The only way I saw a good outcome was buying her from them. Now she needs a proper home."

Her eyes stared intently at the piece of paper then back to the Doctor. "I haven't seen an inspector around here in months. Why are you so bent on acting lawfully all the sudden?"

"I'm not like the rest," he assured, stowing the paper back in his breast pocket.

"So you two are going to purge the rest of the division from animal abuse then?" Esther crossed her arms again, testing their explanations with a raised eyebrow.

"No chance," he replied, resting a hand on Lady's back again.

Esther nodded. "Well at least there's some sort of brain in there. Let me get the captain." Turning back to the door, she left them for a moment. The doorway closed and the bay doors opened, wide enough for half a dozen semi-trucks to pass through. A blast of stingy air hit Rose and the Doctor, whipping their hair back with the smell of dung and biochemical straw. As the doors locked open, Esther came back with a full bucket. "You can come in. I bet your cow is hungry."

The Doctor nodded and started his way up the ramp when he was jerked backward by the bridle. Lady stood rooted to the spot, shaking and looking at the Doctor fearfully.

"What's wrong?"

"Lady, it's just a ship," he spoke kindly to her, patting the flat part of her head. "I wouldn't lead you into something harmful, I promise." He pulled gently at the rope, but she still didn't budge.

Esther turned to Rose, bewildered. "Is he talking to a cow?"

"Not exactly a normal day for me either," Rose said back.

"No one will hurt you, Lady. Come on, Esther will feed you. No harm, no shocks." Slowly he led Lady up the ramp and into the ship. Her eyes spun about the ship's interior, eyeing any sort of rope or dangling objects from the ceiling.

Mainly it was very grey and metallic inside the lower bay of the ship. Pens were built to hold the varying livestock inside, the ground underneath covered in straw. Singular stalls were roomed in the back of the ship near the food supplies. The Doctor guessed there were roughly fifty livestock boarding the vessel.

"Small ship," he commented.

"We're independent from the bigger industries like the Craaz programs. We make by." Esther held out a hand to the Doctor, and he passed over the bridle to her. She shook bucket in front of her. "Some on sweetie."

"You mean Lady," the Doctor offered. Esther glared at him, leading Lady across the bay and to one of the singular stables. Intently, the Doctor watched Lady's movements while she made her way into the stable and Esther take the bridle off and fill the food bins.

"She didn't look at the grain once," the Doctor observed, his expression hard and calculating.

Esther didn't understand and asked him what he meant by that.

"Lady isn't acting like a normal cow, right? She should be interested more in the food than what's hanging from the ceiling." He fiddled with his glasses for a moment, rattling his aged mind for an answer.

"How do you notice these things?" Esther questioned roughly. "All I noticed is that she stinks."

"What?" The Doctor gave his full attention to Esther.

"Are you serious? I could smell her across the division. She smells like-oh, what are they called- eggs! Rotten eggs."

The Doctor still couldn't connect the dots. There were many questionable things about Lady's behavior, and it was possible that her uncanny awareness to her surroundings and her stench may be linked in some form.

"Did you notice how she smelled before, Rose?" the Doctor called out, approaching Lady's stable, taking off his trench coat and hanging it on a chair.

"No, but now that she mentioned it it's a bit overwhelming," Rose replied, lingering about the livestock ship curiously.

"Esther, have there been many cows like this that you know of?" he questioned, letting himself into the stable pen. "Hello, Lady," he introduced, stepping closer to her cautiously.

Shaking her head and leaning up on the thick planks making up the stable, Esther said, "No, not really. I kind of get a whiff of the same thing from the big corporation livestock pens, but that's it. Mr. Smith, what are you doing?"

Running his hands down her side, he brought his nose very close to her body. He spoke to himself quietly, bringing a pen-like object from his pocket. Pointing it at her side the end of it glowed blue. He read the pen's calculations, his brows furrowing in frustration.

"Is that what they give to inspectors now?" Esther asked.

"It's my sonic screwdriver," he said, sounding preoccupied. "Vey useful for daily tasks." Squatting down next to Lady, he sighed and looked at her face. "I'm sorry Lady. Honestly, it's nothing personal." He turned back to the tangled hair of her side and licked the fur.

"By the planets!" Esther cried, revolted. "You just licked her."

He let the taste float around in his mouth a bit, trying hard to understand the problem facing him. He spit. "It's sulfur," he concluded, raising himself. "She tastes like sulfur. That's why she smells like rotten eggs. But who would douse a cow in sulfur?"

"Did you really just lick her?" Rose scolded, coming up to the small pen.

"Lady didn't seem to mind," he shrugged, letting himself out of the pen. "And I got a much needed answer out of it."

Behind them a door unlocked, making everyone's heads turn. Stepping out into the bay area was a stocky middle aged man with set-in eyes and salt and pepper hair. From the sure-footed way he carried himself, the Doctor guessed this was the captain.

"Captain Herlark," Esther said sharply, "These are the inspectors. They're asking to sell this cow to us." Behind Esther the Doctor waved along with Rose.

"How nice," Captain Herlark sighed. "Haven't seen inspectors for ages. Is this a special occasion?" He tottered tiredly over to the stable where Lady was kept, looking her over carefully.

"Well, sort of," the Doctor replied. "We just saw some trouble and sought out to fix it."

"How kind of you."

"Would you be able to take her into your fleet?"

From looking over Lady, Captain Herlark's sleepy eyes became sharp. He looked to the Doctor. "How much did you pay for her originally?"

"One-hundred Plato's."

Almost in the exact fashion as he had looked at Lady, Captain Herlark eyed the Doctor. "You seem an honest enough gentleman. For this special occasion, I suppose I'll pay the same amount."

Rose found the trading and dealing too human and not adventurous at all. Being inside a real cargo ship of the future made up for the boring trading deals a bit, but the looks Esther kept sending her Rose found absolutely irking. Not even knowing her for ten minutes, Rose could feel unfriendly vibrations from the herdswoman.

As the Doctor searched in his trench coat for his pad of psychic paper, Rose watched Lady's trembling figure. Again, there was a personified terror in the cow's eyes, watching the Doctor sell her off. Rose was a city girl; this was the longest she had ever been near a cow, but common sense told her that cows don't watch their owners sell them off so intently.

Lady stepped away from the side of the pen where the Doctor and Captain Herlark were talking. She dug her hoofs in the ground and heaved forward. Her head crashed into the fence, cracking the wood. By her overwhelming force the Doctor and Captain Herlark were thrown off the fence railing and to the ground.

Esther was following her feet before she could even think. She swung open the pen, shouting and grabbing the bridle. She tried tossing it across Lady's head, but it slipped. Lady dug her hoofs in the ground again, tossing her head dangerously at Esther.

"Mr. Smith, are you alright?" Captain Herlark said, offering a hand to him. "Esther, get that bridle on her. I don't want any mad animals in here."

Lady bellowed manically at Esther, tossing her head to prevent the bridle reaching her. The rest of the livestock in the bay were drawn by this small uprising, screeching and shouting in response.

"Get that bridle on her and shut them up!" The Captain's tired face glowed hotly now, the lines on his worn face suddenly stern.

"Bollocks," the Doctor groaned, lifting himself from the straw-covered ground. "I think I fell in a cow pat." He turned around, reaching for his backside.

Rose tried containing herself, but a snort escaped her and her mouth opened wide, laughing at the Doctor's soiled trousers. He tried wiping it off, but there was no use.

He turned to Lady, wanting an explanation for her unruly behavior. "What was that?" he cried. Lady looked directly at him and stopped tossing her head. She bellowed garishly. "No, none of that," he wagged his finger. "Explain yourself. You're trying to get my attention; what do you want me to know?" Lady, her chest heaving stared at the Doctor, not answering back.

The rest of the livestock in the bay became subdued at the Doctor's words, listening intently to the man who understood him.

"Is he…talking to the animals?" Captain Herlark asked hesitantly to Esther and Rose, perplexed at the animals' sudden silence.

The Doctor wasn't talking to the animals, though. Talking meant two parties understanding each other enough to hold a conversation, which he definitely wasn't doing. He was just asking questions to the beings holding the answers, and he wasn't getting anywhere by this method. The Doctor sighed gruffly, trying again to wipe off the cow pat stuck on his trousers.

"I walk with the animals, talk with the animals…How am I supposed to get this off my pants?" The Doctor cried, looking to Rose then Esther.

"We have a hose over there," the captain offered, jutting an extended thumb behind him.

"Honestly Herb," Esther chuffed, still laughing at the Doctor's misfortunes. "I think this inspector needs some laundry done."

"What I don't understand is Lady," the Doctor declared, looking Lady over. "Why are you acting so strangely? What's possessing your mind so firmly?"

Again, as if replying back to him, Lady mooed at him.

He recognized this, wanting urgently to understand what Lady was trying to tell him, mentally bashing his skull for the slightest glint of an answer. An arm slipped into the space between his arm and his side, squeezing gently.

"Come on. We'll figure it out," Rose told him softly. "Captain Herlark offered to give you a change of clothes for the moment."

"Rose, if I don't figure this out I might lose it," the Doctor said, the muscles in his jaw flexing. He tried pulling away from her to look at Lady closer, but Rose didn't dare let go, grasping his arm tightly.

"Give her a bit to calm down," Rose insisted, pulling him back to her side. "You can't be full from the ice cream. Why not have a proper meal upstairs?" The Doctor turned his head and looked at her sternly. "Doctor, you thinking too hard," she soothed quietly. Her hand slipped down his arm, intertwining with his fingers. "We won't leave until everything's figured out. Promise."

Still he didn't answer back, instead looking back to Lady. She was pacing now, glancing back up to him every so often. Seeing how frantic she was just set him on edge. What with seeing Esther, this mysterious Pat, the orbit of the planet, the Time War…His thoughts crashed like jagged pieces of glass in his head, uncontrolled and nearly unbearable.

Rose squeezed his hand. Between the simplicity of her pulse reverberating through her fingers and the sudden jolting feeling of the present, the Doctor relaxed measurably. She tended to do this. Bringing sanity back into the room. Make his burden bearable. He squeezed her hand back.

"Alright," he muttered, taking a firm hold on her hand, following the captain and Esther up the stairway.

"See I told you to wear the brown tie. It matches perfectly," Rose chatted to him halfway up the stairs.

"Why?"

"Well with your pants, of course," she laughed.

**_Thank you for reading! Next chapter'll be out soon! :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Now with summer I am able to write freely, so I hope my creative gears get a clue and stop with the writers block . Thanks for reading this! Reviews are cool y'know…just a thought. Like JelloFrog! Gracias! So read on!_

* * *

It took Captain Herlark a solid twenty minutes to dig through his limited wardrobe to find a pair of pants that the Doctor could wear without worrying about them falling about his ankles. As his waist band was nearly double what the Doctor's was, he had to resort letting him borrow his pajama bottoms that had an adjustable drawstring. The Doctor was close to pulling the drawstring twice around his waist.

"Where you're from Mr. Smith," Captain Herlark conversed, "Do they feed you often?"

"Yes," he affirmed after their laughter died down. "Can't say I'm not famished now, though. When was the last time we ate, Rose?"

"Oh! Feels like years," Rose said, holding her empty stomach, smiling knowingly at the Doctor. He smirked at her from the side.

"It'd only take me a few seconds to cook up some dry packs for you," Esther offered. "Let me get these clothes to the washroom then I can put it together." Taking up the Doctor's soiled trousers and the stained trench coat, Ester turned to head down a hallway that branched off from the dining room.

"Save something for me," the Captain called back, passing into a different hallway and hiking up a stairway. "I need to finish checking the financial boggart." A metal door clapped behind him, leaving Esther to huff at the absent Captain.

"I guess I'm making dinner for everyone then," she muttered not too energetically, pausing in the doorway.

"If you need some help," Rose began, hoping to ease the tension between her and Esther, "I wouldn't mind. I mean, everything looks manageable." She turned to inspect the kitchen once more. Metal cabinets lined the far walls, hanging over the countertop and what looked to be a large refrigerator, big enough to walk into. It looked earthly enough, at least.

Esther glanced between Rose and the Doctor, unsure. "I'd grab four packs of the stroganoff from the fridge. Set a pot of water on the stove to boil." Trying a quick glance at the Doctor, Esther spun around and left down the hallway.

The trench coat and the soiled pants hung heavily in Esther's arms. She never liked it when strangers lingered about the ship. Those two especially tweeked her; Esther couldn't quiet place him, but Mr. Smith seemed so out of the ordinary. But he fit into this moment perfectly to the inch. Hardly any of it made sense to her. How was she both captivated and withdrawn by the spindly inspector?

She turned another corner and entered into the washroom, tossing his burdensome clothes onto a rough board made to be a table. It didn't take her long to see through his lies on being an inspector. From what she remembered of the Inspection Brigade, Mr. Smith was much too nice however his credentials suggested. Inspectors spit on you. They laugh when the livestock are prodded to death. Mr. Smith foiled an inspector, but why was he lying in the first place? For the cow?

"Hardly," Esther caught herself saying aloud.

"What's in his pockets?" she hummed to herself, letting the water warm before she tossed the clothes into the wash. Her hands dug into the pant's pockets first, finding many assorted wrappers and bits of old sweets. Her nose curled and she gagged slightly when she pulled out a very moldy banana peel. "Slob!" she scolded him, tossing the banana peel into the waste bin.

With the pant's pockets empty of rotting fruit, Esther turned to the trench coat. Not crossing her mind, she believed that the clothes were so heavy because of the thick material the trench coat was made out of. Rummaging through his pockets, though, she found why she felt as if she was carrying a bag of bricks before.

"How is that possible?" Her hand slide into the right front pocket, into loads of pokey, slimy, prying objects, trying to find the pocket's end. The rest of her forearm followed, reaching deeper inside, her eyes wide with amazement. Just as her elbow was blinking out of view, her fingers felt the hem of the pocket, barely grazing the end of the pocket.

She checked if all the trench coat pockets were like this. The left front pocket. The breast pocket. The two inner pockets. They all reached deeper than what they looked.

"Bigger on the inside," she gawped, flipping over the trench coat, trying to make out a reasonable explanation for the giant pockets. She raised the coat to her face, intently looking for clues. She paused, setting the coat down, her brow furrowing. "And I have to empty all these?"

She reasoned there was at least ten stones worth of wrappers, trinkets, and other odd objects weighing the trench coat pockets. It would take her a good hour to dump everything out, not counting sorting out the wrappers and valuables.

Not enlightened by this new chore, she brought her arm through one of the front pockets, reaching for its hem. She grabbed the hem at the bottom and pulled, spilling out the contents onto the board top. Most the things were covered in a cumulative layer of lint, mushing half pieces of apple cores and scraps of written on paper together.

The other pockets followed suit, everything hiding inside them coming out in a dirty film of lint. She found at least a dozen old banana peels hunkering inside the confines of the lint.

"Someone has a thing for bananas," she snorted, tossing another peel into the bin.

Slipping her fingers back into the mound, she touched something long and metallic. Esther pulled it out, recognizing right away as the instrument had used earlier on the cow. Up close the instrument was much more intricate than she had realized. With a small dial and set of buttons fitted just underneath a blue bulb, her calloused hand wrapped tenderly around the grip, feeling the worn grooves where his hand would be. She recalled him using it as a scanner.

Pointing the device at a scorch mark on the wood board, she pressed a button, turning the blue light on and making a whizzing sound. It shut off almost immediately.

"Just my luck to break it." Her eyes trained the room for something else to light up. In the far corner where the soap was kept was a vase filled with dried flowers. Clicking the button, she tried her luck a second time.

Esther nearly dropped the device. By it's blue light the flowers brightened, springing back to life with green leaves and fiery red petals. She turned it off, shocked. She turned the device in her hands.

It was a sonic screwdriver. She remembered this so meticulously from her childhood, but she never dreamed she would ever see one again. She remembered the big-nosed Doctor having one, entertaining her by opening and closing the flowers in the garden with it.

That Doctor was long gone, though. Promising by his departure to never be seen again by little Esther Jones whom he had coined as the bravest little girl he'd ever come across. But how could John Smith have a screwdriver just like the big-nosed Doctor?

Her face flushed, Esther brought the screwdriver to eye level, inspecting it, looking for any details that could give Mr. Smith away. Maybe they were of the same species, or brothers. The thought smite itself; the Doctor had told her specifically he was the last of his kind. Any relations to him were lost in "The Great War."

Esther pounded her head for an answer to all these questions. Maybe John Smith stole it, maybe they were great enemies in the war…Her grip tightened around the screwdriver, frustrated and upset.

A thought struck her. Bringing her head up, she raised the screwdriver again, close enough to her face so it nearly met her lips.

"Where is the Doctor?" she whispered to the sonic screwdriver. She clicked the button down. Like a projector the screwdriver began beaming images, starting with several old faces of men she had never met. Three, five, seven different pictures of men she didn't recognize went by.

"That's him, the Doctor!" she whispered loudly at the screwdriver at the ninth image. The image switched. A girl stood next to the Doctor, golden light pouring out of her eyes. It was Rose. The Doctor came closer to her and kissed her.

Again the image changed. The Doctor stood next to a large control panel, looking sad and pained. Suddenly the same golden light poured out of him, consuming his face and hands. When it stopped he no longer looked like the Doctor, but had a new face.

Esther lifted her finger off the button, dropping the screwdriver on the table and clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh captain, my captain!" she cursed, her eyes beginning to well.

* * *

"Doctor, why does everything look like packaged bricks in here?" Rose called out from the walk-in refrigerator.

"Like Esther said, they're dry packs. They remove all the moisture from a meal then block it so it's uniformed," he replied, picking at lint on the striped pajama bottoms he wore. "Kind of like astronaut food."

"There's just so much in here! Why though?"

"Haven't you seen a cargo ship before, miss?" Rose hadn't realized the metal door where the Captain had gone through had opened, Herlark standing in the doorway.

Rose stared sheepishly for a moment at him. "Sorry. More of a city girl."

"I wouldn't blame you," he chuckled, taking a seat next to the Doctor. "Whatever they teach in those schools they're academically driven. Book smart. You don't learn anything about the planets outside your own. Too bad.

"On average it takes a cargo ship seven months to pick up the products then another seven to return to their port where they sell the product. And there aren't any pit stops along the way usually."

"So this is all the food for a fourteen month journey?"

Captain Herlark shrugged. "It's actually a little low back there. All that by itself could last…what, eight months I'd guess."

"I thought all ships in this century were required to have a warp drive," the Doctor wondered aloud, itching his chin.

"If it's got an engine that can withstand the galaxies it can fly. Now those Craaz ships they can withstand one-hundred meteor showers before they shake."

The Doctor sat up rigidly, leaning forward curiously. "Oh? Tell me about Craaz. He seems to be the big name in these parts."

"Well, of course he's the big name. He owns half the division," Herlark chuckled, unsure. The smile dropped. Hesitantly, he leaned forward. "You don't monitor this division usually, do you?"

"Erm, no. Not really," the Doctor conceded. "We usually…stick to ship sales. Lot nicer here, though."

Herlark agreed. "Never a nice bloke in those parts."

"So this Craaz," the Doctor continued, bored with playing with the pajama bottoms, "What's his story?"

"I don't really know how much truth there is to it, but I guess he started on the bottom like most his kind. There isn't much respect for the native Chalians."

"He was born here?"

"Yeah. He started in the markets young then before anyone realized," Captain Herlark sighed, "he was at the top. He has a ship just for his corporation that monitor all his sales. They call his personal ship Olympus of the division; it's the size of a mountain!" Herlark paused. "Inspector, why are you so curious about Craaz? Anyone could have told you about him."

"Actually, never really felt the need until now. Where did Esther wander off to?"

"Doesn't usually take her this long. And what on your partner in crime?" Herlark leaned back in his seat towards the refrigerator doors. "Did you get lost in there?" he yelled jokingly to Rose.

"No, I'm fine. I think I found the stroganoff." Rose stepped out of the fridge, a thin layer of frost hanging onto her clothes, two packaged bricks in her hands. "Frigid in there. Are the pans under the sink?"

"Should be. But speak of her, there's Esther."

Looming into the room, Esther's eyes hastened to Captain Herlark, her gaze still distracted. Now looking over Rose's clumsy hands trying to unwrap the food pack and the too-slim-for-his-own-good Doctor, Esther didn't feel any resentment. Honestly, she felt more like hugging them than anything. But she buried the gurgling urge, turning her upturned smile to Herlark.

"Sorry I took awhile. You wouldn't believe what I found emptying his pockets." Briefly locking her eyes with the Doctor, Esther turned to help Rose with the meal instead, wanting to come up with a plan of action before she told the Doctor.

Not even fifteen minutes passed before the food pack had hydrated and formed into a hearty meal. With fresh foods from the market mixed in with the space blocks, the aroma the stroganoff caused everyone's stomachs to growl.

"So is it just you two then?" The Doctor paused when Esther and Herlark glanced at him. "Are there any other crew members?"

Captain Herlark and Esther exchanged quick, uneasy looks, unsure how to respond. "No, the rest are milling about in the market right now," Herlark replied before Esther could. "There are three others. Bit of a treat coming into an ITC port." His eyes averted clumsily to the plate in front of him, the steam curling into his grizzly beard.

"Would you mind if I say grace?" Esther asked, mostly directed at Rose who nearly bitten off a forkful of the stroganoff. Her cheeks lightening sheepishly, Rose set down the fork. Around the table they took each others hands, bowing their heads.

"Lover divine and perfect Comrade,

Waiting content, invisible yet, but certain,

Be thou my God.

All great ideas, the races' aspirations,

All heroisms, deeds of rapt enthusiasts,

Be ye my Gods.

Or Time and Space,

Or shape of Earth divine and wondrous,

Or some fair shape I viewing, worship,

Or lustrous orb of sun or star by night,

Be ye my Gods*."

Esther loosened her hands from Herlark's and the Doctor's, her eyes glancing over to the Doctor. His brow was furrowed in confusion.

"Amen. That was very nice, Esther. Did you learn that recently?" Captain Herlark conversed, not wasting a moment to put his knife and fork to work.

"Um, Esther," Rose hesitated, feeling she was going to upset Esther's suddenly bright mood, "What exactly is your religion?" She could feel the daggers of the Doctor's eyes upon her. Even while knowing it was an impolite question, Rose held her ground, not returning the look.

Esther seemed surprised. "We're Christians."

"I was just asking because- cuz I never heard that prayer before." An awkward pause lilted between them.

Her smile gone, Esther's lips tightened. "It's hard to find Bibles. So we live by biblical allusions in other writings."

"What do you read?" the Doctor asked quickly, trying to reverse the chill of touchy subjects into lighter things. He reached for his napkin.

She opened her mouth slightly, but shook her head, looking down at her food. "It doesn't matter. Food's alright?" Everyone nodded, trying to overcome the chill of touchy subjects.

Not a full minute, Esther cleared her throat, staring at the Doctor. He looked up from his knife and fork. "You've got a bit there, Mr. Smith," she said with well-practiced words, pointing to her upper lip.

The Doctor picked up his napkin, unfolding the napkin, pausing as he lifted it to his mouth. A light pen was written inside the fold.

_I remember you, Doctor._

* * *

A/N: A slow chapter, I know. I'd rather be writing all the death and angsty scenes too! In due time, though. Character development! Thanks sooo much for reading

*An edited version of Walt Whitman's poem, _Gods._


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